


The House that the Spider built

by Nelja-in-English (Nelja)



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Do Not Archive (The Magnus Archives), Fisting, Horror, M/M, Mind Control, Oral Sex, Painful Sex, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:41:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28008615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nelja/pseuds/Nelja-in-English
Summary: Greg can't sleep and finds himself at Raymond Fielding's door at night. He couldn't say why.
Relationships: Raymond Fielding/Greg Montgomery
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19
Collections: Consent Issues Exchange 2020





	The House that the Spider built

**Author's Note:**

  * For [furchte_die_schildkrote](https://archiveofourown.org/users/furchte_die_schildkrote/gifts).



> For Greg: I grabbed the first name we knew of an Hilltop Road ward we knew nothing about.

Greg can't sleep.

There are a lot of things to do when you can’t sleep. Well, at least a few. Dreaming about all the fun things you'll do once you're out of the house. Dreaming about hitting your asshole father. Masturbating. All of those things at the same time. Okay, maybe not that much choice. It's usually enough entertainment.

So he doesn't know why he gets up and, still in his pajamas, starts to silently walk into the corridors. Hilltop Road house is old, or maybe it just looks older than it is. Often, the other kids have talked about ghosts, about how they sometimes hear moans coming from the ground or the panelling. Of course, every one of them is posturing about it, claiming they don't fear ghosts, that only children do. Greg does it with the others.

He still thinks there's something wrong with the house, though. It's not just that they’re trapped here until they're eighteen. Greg has never been not trapped. Maybe it's the way they're meant to be thankful for it. The way Greg is, in a way.

He likes Raymond Fielding - really likes him. It's not only gratitude. He sometimes wishes he hadn't so many reasons to be grateful to him, so he could sort his stupid feelings, whether they mean something or not.

And right now, he's outside Ray's door.

Suddenly he's overwhelmed by the want to open the door, to see Ray's face when he's sleeping. His pretty, fluffy brown hair around it, soft like a newly spun spider web. Greg wants to enter, to see the shape of Ray’s body under the sheets, then to raise them and look at his body, because guessing is not enough. He wants to kneel, he wants to take Ray’s cock into his mouth, to lick it hard, to make his gratitude physical and messy and wet...

Greg realizes he’s fallen to his knees, the lust so strong he can no longer stand. He thinks about masturbating again, but not now, not here, not where Ray could hear. He tries to get up to his feet, leans on the wooden door. It's by accident (of course it is) that he holds onto the door handle.

It opens. 

Greg is paralyzed for a few seconds. The door creaked a tiny bit. What if Ray was woken up? What if he never was never asleep in the first place? Greg needs to run. No, he needs to tiptoe away as slowly and silently as he can.

He enters the room.

Raymond is sitting on his bed, sternly looking at him, brown hair shining silver under the light of the moon. Greg's heart twists in his chest. Raymond's gaze slides from his red cheeks - he can't see Greg’s face in the dim light of the moon, can he? - to his groin - and with the light summer pajamas Greg is wearing, he can certainly see that.

"What are you doing here, Greg?"

"I was daydreaming about sucking your cock, sir."

Greg definitely didn't say that. He would never. He's polite and he knows how to lie. But he heard his own voice, he felt his own lips move. As desire floods his veins even deeper, he's terrified of what will happen next. Oh, if time could stop now and forever...

"Enter, and close the door."

Greg can't disobey him, not right now. It would only make things worse. He stands awkwardly, as Ray turns the lights on, making hard light shine on Greg's shame.

"Remove your clothes,” Ray continues.

It's both arousal and terror that make Greg shiver, his legs wobble, his heart bolt like it wants to be anywhere but here. It's very much here, as his hands follow every one of Ray's orders, baring his thin, white, too-hairy body. How can he feel self-conscious about that right now, rather than about his shameful lust? It's not the right time.

He folds his pajamas and puts them on a chair. He can't not. He can't be untidy in front of Ray.

"Maybe we can reach an arrangement," Ray says, with an honest smile on his face. "Come and lay on the bed."

And Greg does.

It's so wrong. Ray does this to test him, certainly. Ray wants him to say no. Greg is proving himself as a lusty and immoral boy, because he doesn't say, blushing, that it's not an option. Well, he does blush, a lot, but he still lies on Ray's bed, as Ray moved to the footboard and left him a place, a nest on the undone sheets.

Greg lies on his belly and spreads his legs. He hasn't even been ordered to spread his legs. What's wrong with him? His cock is harder than it’s ever beens, beating in need. He wants to touch himself, but he can't move his hands. What is holding him back? Did he pretend to trade decency for obedience? Anyway, his hands won't move, as if they’re trapped in a net of anxiety and fear. He shouldn't be here.

Ray raises his hand, and for a moment, Greg thinks he will touch his cock. He wants it so much. Almost as violently as he wanted to suck him off earlier. He moans in frustration when Ray's hand hits his ass instead. It hurts. Greg knows that he deserved it. His cock rubs against the sheets and he madly wants to come. It would be incredibly humiliating, but still he keeps hoping that each strike it will be the one that sends over the edge. After a while, he stops swallowing his tears and sobs in a pillow that smells like Ray.

And then he feels a sticky liquid pouring between his ass cheeks. For a while, disoriented, he wonders if he bled, but it isn't painful. It feels cool, soothing.

A finger enters his ass. Greg should react. He should fight, protest, scream, at least try to move away. But he can't. It feels... no, it doesn't feel good, it's invasive and cold, but it feels right. He wants to be opened up, in any possible way. Keeping yourself closed doesn't work. When Ray's fingers twist inside him, his whole body quakes in pleasure and need, but he still doesn't come.

"Please..." he begs.

And then he freezes, realizing he wasn't allowed to talk. 

"You will get everything you want if you're good," Ray answers. His voice is both stern and benevolent, sounding like a divine truth. And Greg thrusts back instead, wanting more of this, even when Ray adds a third finger, then a fourth, opens him so wide...

He couldn't do it without the fluid that's still flowing in his ass, like it was directly from Ray's hand. It feels so wonderful, like a connection between them making everything work, a calming balm, like the idea that Ray cares.

When Ray's whole hand enters him, claiming him from the inside, filling him to the core, it's intense and incredibly painful. It's what Greg has always wanted. He's sure of all this, not sure as the lightning quick implications that run in his mind and cock. Is it pain that he wanted? It cannot be. But can he know for sure?

 _It's not normal it's terrifying it's so wrong it's not you_ , something is screaming in Greg's head. But it's almost imperceptible. It must be one of Hilltop Road's long-lost ghosts.

So Greg just spreads his legs wider, and takes what he's given. Fingers crawling inside him, the lightest move making Greg squirm at the pleasure and pain in his sensitive guts.

"You're doing well," Ray says softly. "You're a natural. Just a bit more..."

Greg should come. It's unfair. It hurts too much, his balls ready to burst. His body should get used to it, should understand he was made for it, pain and all. Should allow him release.

When Ray removes his hand, when the pain flows back, he feels empty, and he cries again.

"It's your time to work, now," Ray says. "Go off the bed, get on your knees, and worship. I promised you a reward, after all."

Greg smiles through his tears, the words making his whole body shake in gratitude. Oh, he's so quick to jump on the floor before falling to his knees, so fast that they will probably bruise. He wants Ray's cock. He did all this for it. His hands hover around Ray's pajamas, his eyes are begging.

"Go on," Ray says. Greg grabs his pajamas bottom with two hands, to see his cock faster. And then he can't even savour the view, because he wants to take it in his mouth even more. It's the most delightful taste he’s ever known. And once again he will lose it out of impatience, because he can't control himself and take it slow. Even more than sucking it, he wants to please Ray, to serve him, to feel an explosion of come in his mouth. The moves seem to come naturally to him, and it's wonderful - oh, maybe he really was made to do this too.

It takes very little time before he has Ray coming down his throat - and as Greg gets the thing he wanted the most in all his life, he comes himself, without being touched. His own semen soils the hair on his belly, and Ray comes so much that Greg coughs, and spits almost as much as he swallows, so much that it runs on his face, till his neck. It's all he ever wanted. His tears are trickling down his face, mixing with the marks of Ray's pleasure. He has a moment of panic, wondering what he should do, if he should run or scream or fall prostrated, rolling over.

"Wasn't it sweet?" Ray says, grabbing his jaw. "Do you want to forget everything about it?"

For Greg, this opportunity to say what he wants, to know what he wants, is almost painful. It's like he forgot like it feels like. Does he want to go back to normalcy, to feel like Raymond is a normal, safe, lovely guardian, even if he isn't? Does he want to forget the best orgasm of his life and the closest thing he got to acceptance, just because he's terrified?

"Please, no?" he says in a small voice. Raymond's smile looks fond.

"Clean yourself, put your clothes on again, and go back to your room," Ray says. "You can remember what has happened. But in every conversation, with me, with your friends, you will act like you don't. And you'll never understand why."

Greg can't ask why, he can't scream, he can't even let his eyes widen. His legs lead him to the shower room. His mouth stays closed. His hands don't shake. When he throws water on his face to clean the dried semen, he discovers he can't even cry.


End file.
